


The Morning After the Knight Before

by InfiniteCalm



Category: Nimona (Webcomic)
Genre: Cute, M/M, beginning of relationship, canon-verse, not quite fluff, ooh swearwords, teenaged angst, there's like literally less than ten fanfictions here, why am I tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2183835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteCalm/pseuds/InfiniteCalm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forgive me the title, I thought of this pun and it was IRRESISTIBLE. So, Ballister and Ambrosius were a couple? In high school? How dashing! Join them as they discover themselves (and each other) by way of jousts, sword fights, and those summer niiiiiiiiights...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter the First

**Author's Note:**

> First off, thanks for clicking :) And second of all, I do apologize because I've seen other fics like this, and they were both AMAZING so I hope those authors do't mind me posting this. I swear I'm not copying your idea. As well as that, I have the world's dodgiest keyboard so if you see any typos, I'm really sorry, I obviously missed some. Enjoy!

The light was so nice in these summer evenings, Ballister thought wistfully, as he looked out the window. His schoolwork, unforgotten, lay on the desk in front of him. The younger boys were playing a with a ball out in the field, and he let nostalgia for football games gone by overtake him for a while. After all, cubic equations were not going to change in the next five minutes, but the sun would.

He grew distracted, eventually, by the sight of the caretaker shooing them inside, and realized it must be later than he thought. Glad he had left his favorite subject until the end, he finished the equations efficiently and (he hoped) correctly, packed up and left the library, nodding at the librarian on the way out. She smiled back, glad to have someone acknowledging her. That Blackheart one was going places, she always said. He never failed to return his books on time, in pristine condition. That in itself was rare, but he understood the reason why he should do so. He understood quite a lot, actually. He understood maybe a little more than was good for him.

The dorms had been upgraded as they grew older and better. They were less cold, less damp, and there were less adolescent boys to a room. Ballister dropped in his books and satchel, fully expecting to be alone. Generally his study period overlapped with Ambrosius and Coland’s evening jousting, and who the Hell knew where Granty went at night? Granty was there, though, practising his violin, shooting a dirty look at the interruption, but Ballister knew better than to make a sound, instead removing his shoes quietly and lying back on his bed. God, what a horrible day. Every part of his body ached and ached and ached. It was as if the tutors in all of his physical subjects had some sort of vendetta against him, pushing him in a more subtle way than everyone else, hitting harder and expecting him to recover faster.

“Christ!” the other lads would laugh, “for a good fighter you sure bruise easily,” and the tutors wouldn’t meet his gaze when they said this.

It was ten PM, half an hour to lights out and the others still weren’t back, and despite an inquisitive streak, Ballister couldn’t bring himself to care where they were. They’d get back in or not, but anyway, they’d be pretty much fine. Granty closed up the violin, and Ballister complimented him quietly, before the other boy scowled in what might have been considered a deep and dashing gesture, before nearly vaulting out of the window. Totally meeting a girl, Ballister thought drowsily while dressing in regulation sleepwear, barely noticing the large purple bruise flowering all over his abdomen. He was pretty sad, he realized. Was it the violin music? Had it been the kids? Was it the thought of doing it all again, all of it the same, again tomorrow?

No, he realized. No, that wasn’t it. That stuff didn’t generally get him down. This was something else. Maybe it was just exhaustion. he had his weekend in two days, anyway. unusually, it collided with Ambrosius’, which was nice. They’d probably hang out around the river, where there were plenty of girls to pretend to be interested in. Well. Girls were fine. He just thought all that was a little overrated. He’d always preferred swimming than kissing, anyway, unless you counted that nice Timona last year, small and intelligent, who’d been very fun, and not immune to a bit of swimming herself, but neither of them had been bothered to keep up with the relationship after August. Ambrosius had raised eyebrows after every trip out, wondering out loud where on Earth they’d got to. Ambrosius had about five million girls staring at his beautiful self, especially when he went bathing. He didn’t fancy the exertion of exercise, not on his days off, not in Summer.

They came in at twenty past ten, flushed and right eyed, grinning to themselves, and Ballister sighed. Those bloody sisters from the heights again. They were going to get caught one day- and there were Repercussions for That Kind of Thing. Sometimes, though, there was a look to Ambrosius, a kind of desperation to him, that made Ballister think that perhaps that was precisely the point to all this. Privately, he thought that perhaps his best friend didn’t even like Nellie all that much. She didn’t make him happy.

Ambrosius, though cheerful, was not happy in general, and Ballister knew this because whatever sadness he felt, he saw in his friend’s face when he thought no-one was looking. There was a deadness to him, sometimes. A coldness. And then it would disappear, and he’d be beautiful, dim, cheerful Knight-in-training once again.

 _OK_ , Ballister thought then. _Alright. That’s the second time you’ve called him beautiful in a minute. What’s going on there? And he isn’t dim. You know he’s not that._

_-You know what’s going on there._

_\- Shut up._

‘Could you be any noisier?’ He hissed at Coland and Ambrosius, who looked at each other and then at the other eighteen year old, sitting up in bed. ‘They’ll catch you for sure.’

‘It’s five minutes to lights out.’

‘And it’s O’Keeling on watch tonight.’

They laughed, furtively, jumping under the covers, getting changed effectively in that position, terrified of O’Keeling and her stick, even after all these years, turning out the lights at exactly half ten, dropping off to sleep soon afterwards.

God, but it was hot in this armour. Ballister deflected a hit nicely, sidestepping and blocking, sparring with one of the top-formers. He was easily as good, if not better swordmanship-wise, but this guy was an absolute horse of a nineteen year old and could probably have knocked him out with a lance if he wanted to. Ballister tried not to give him too much reason to want to. Ambrosius looked on, impressed. You couldn’t fail to be impressed really. Ballister was pretty much already a knight, and the way his career was going, he’d be one of the greats. The only problem as Ambrosius saw it was that he had never in all his life seen Ballister as a knight, even when he was all done up in that ceremonial grade-graduation armour that made him look all dramatic and sexy-

No, not sexy, that would be weird. But, you know, all- oh whatever. The point was, he and Ballister both knew well that he was not a Knight at heart. He was a scientist. he would probably have been a really good scientist, if things had gone differently and he hadn’t shown a larger capacity for riding a horse well and being able to withstand a bash to the head that would have concussed lesser twelve year olds. You could even see it in the way he fought- controlled, unemotional, achingly cool- oh, for God’s sake, no, not cool- he didn't use any move that he hadn’t practised to infinity and made sure was effective. There weren’t any unnecessary little swooshes, which the fencing teacher hated him for and the duelling teacher found completely wonderful. Ambrosius saw how Ballister subtly changed his style between these two classes, and yet, always, somehow, the fencing he would only scrape a pass in and the duelling would end with some sort of blood or bruise, even if he did win. It was some trick of the light that made him look even more electric than usual when things like that happened. _Jesus, what’s gotten into you, at all, you freak,_ Ambrosius chastised himself, as he had been doing for three years now. _Think of Nellie_ , he then thought, and this, as usual, did nothing for him. _Ugh. Ugh Ugh Ugh._

Thankfully, his name was called up next, and an only slightly dazed Ballister went to sit on the bench with an ice-pack and his opponent, who was apologizing for all he was worth.

‘It’s fine,’ Ballister was saying, one eye streaming. ‘You only poked me in the eye. It’s not even bloodshot.’

‘It is,’ Granty snapped, and that made Ballister think that maybe his date hadn’t gone so well. Or maybe Granty wasn’t actually going on dates, but instead sleeping in the trees or something. You never could tell. Meanwhile, Ambrosius was showing off how lithe he was, by dodging and weaving and basically flying over his opponent, who was a year younger than they were and terrified. Whatever about the showing off, but Ballister did admire the way Ambrosius fought- flashy, somehow managing to imbue it with his own sense of humour. He was unpredictable and, against all odds and training guides, successful. This was in no small part due to the extra hours and hours of practise he undertook each week. If there was any among them who deserved to be the Director’s champion, it was Ambrosius, and that was for sure. Fondly, Ballister remembered the tiny twelve year old who scraped into the Institute’s knight training by the skin of his teeth. And now look- tall, lean, confident- the boy was a walking advertisement for clean living and a chivalrous outlook.

 _There was something about him_ , Ballister thought, and suddenly everything was different. He opened his eyes a little wider and then squeezed them shut, but he couldn’t unthink what he’d thought and his heart wasn’t about to take back skipped beats. No, no no no- no. Nope. No. Oh, shitballs. And Ambrosius had won the fight, and as he took off his helm, shaking out his very beautiful hair on the way (flashy bastard) he smiled, probably to someone else, Coland, or someone, but it seemed to Ballister it was all for him, that gorgeous, full, fake smile.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your comments guys :) I changed the title as it was pointed out to me that it was kind of similar to other fics. Again, sorry for typos and coincidental similarities. I'm not sure how the pacing is working out here, because it's my first multi-chapter story. Who knows. Anyway, your feedback is very much appreciated.

So Ambrosius, flush with victory, had taken off his helm in a dramatic fashion, only to see Ballister staring at him intently. That in itself was not unusual. The smile which Ambrosius smiled at the crowd in general was also pretty much par for the course (what, were they going to see him not celebrate a win?) but the little sigh he gave when sitting with his roommates on the bench was, if not very pronounced, a deviation from normal routine.

‘Jesus, what?’ Granty asked, frowning- again, dramatically. ‘it’s not like you threw up in a fucking helmet or anything.’

‘Oh my _God_ , Garamond.’ Coland exclaimed angrily. ‘Would you ever _let that go_?’’

‘Oh, right, yeah, like you’re some angel non-complainer!’

The boys, never quite friends, dissolved into bickering, which gave Ballister an excuse to quietly ask what the matter was, feeling his heart thump in his chest, wondering whether that was normal, if the blush rising to his sallow cheeks was very noticeable, and who’d be the first to beat him up, if they found out what he was thinking. This was a new feeling. This was very very different to the fondness he’d felt for Timona. This was- well, it was horrible. Desperate. But also, it was lovely. And nice, and weird- he tried to concentrate on the pain in his eye as a distraction, and that worked, a little.

‘Nothing at all,’ Ambrosius said, in such a way that made Ballister quite sure that there was something wrong.

‘Do you want to come with me to get more ice for my eye? This stuff is melted already. God, it’s boiling hot today.’

‘Um- yeah. Here, I’ll go ask Sir.’ Ambrosius said, not really knowing what he was going to say to his long-time acquaintance. Permission was duly granted- and because it was him, he got an extra hour from the tutor, who was soft enough on students he liked. They set off towards the kitchens, invincible with their passes safely signed.

‘Well? I mean, are you OK? Should I be worried?’

‘You’re so goddamn protective, Blackheart. No, you should not be worried. I’m just having an off-day. And God knows how you found that out. What are you, telepathic?’

‘Ambrosius, seriously.’

‘Yeah, I’m being serious!’

‘No, you aren’t! You’ve been upset for like a month! And you keep on talking about that awful girl, and you’re using all the right words, but you just seem tired of her, and ashamed of yourself after. You know that? You just seem ashamed!’ Ballister said, and then covered his hand with his mouth, tanned skin turning a gentle pink. ‘Sorry. I don’t know what came over me. That was uncalled for.’

Ambrosius, who had not expected this when accepting an invitation to go visit the kitchens, was nearly a tomato, but if it was anger or embarrassment, Ballister couldn’t tell.

‘Well.’ Ambrosius said after a pregnant pause. ‘Well, if you weren’t Ballister Blackheart, you’d be out cold in a rose bush right about now, but I happen to know you better than anyone else. So I’m going to think about what you said. Give me a minute. I’m still mad at you.’

They walked in silence again, and despite himself Ballister couldn’t help but realize that Ambrosius had pretty eyes.

_So? Are you coming out to yourself then? Is this it? Is there no going back after this? And, if so, are you going to tell him now? Or wait? He might reject you. He might tell other people. He’s not been himself lately. What if he laughs? What if he doesn’t believe you? Anyway, he’d never like you anyway, not in the same way. And why would he? What could he see in you?_

‘Um. Yeah. I think me and Nellie might go our… separate ways, maybe. I kind of find her boring. and she’s not even pretty. Not even in an interesting way, like your girlfriend last summer. But just kind of- meh. You know?’

‘I never met her. Just her sister.’

‘Oh, right. Coland’s one.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Hm. I’ll ask Coland to do the honours. She won’t mind.’

‘That seems a little unfair to her.’

‘Believe me, she really won’t.’

_More silence. Now or never, Ballister. Are you going to-_

‘That’s not what I came out here to talk about though,’ Ballister admitted. ‘It’s a hard thing to say.’ He took a deep breath, and breathed out, and stopped walking, watching Ambrosius do the same, thinking that he probably knew what was coming, but having to say it anyway-

‘I’m Gay.’

‘Oh,’ Said Ambrosius, tremulously. He didn’t say anything, for a while. ‘That’s… that is big news. Um. Right.’ And he really didn’t have anything else to say, so he self-consciously half-patted Ballister on the back. ‘I couldn’t give a fuck, Ballister. I couldn’t care less.’

‘Thank God. Thank you.’

‘Well- I mean- be careful. I mean, I don’t have to tell you. And I wouldn’t tell Coland or Granty, if I were you. But- I mean- yeah. Good luck? If I were- and I’m not, by the way, I’m totally not, but if I were gay, I’d totally find you attractive.’

‘Thanks?’

‘That was a weird thing to say.’

‘Yes it was.’

‘Sorry.’

If Ambrosius was thrown off a little by this, at least he’d got rid of one problem in his life. Nellie’s dumping had also eliminated any need for him to have another source of romantic stress in his life for two months. At least. And he had an excuse not to hang out with Coland anymore. This was a win-win-win situation. But the look on Ballister’s face after he’d realized there was no problem made him feel, if not pity, then worry. He’d looked so vulnerable, and at the same time so utterly relieved. He hadn’t known relief could be that visible. As far as everyone (including himself) was concerned, Ambrosius was your average red-blooded male, and even he got stuff shouted or thrown at him every other week. As if having nice hair and caring about your clothes made you a homosexual, or something. If the institute ever found out about Ballister, he didn’t know what would happen, but it would certainly not be pretty. So, yeah. That was worrying.

And that wasn’t even to think of when he had accidentally walked in on Ballister getting changed for bed earlier, and Hell, even though he had only been shirtless, he had looked good. Ambrosius could feel his heart beat just thinking about it. There was no reason to leave, obviously, and so he had stayed. Somehow, though, this felt like an invasion of privacy: ridiculous, naturally, as they’d been getting dressed beside each other for most of their lives. Ballister pulled the uncomfortable top over his head, mussing his hair, covering the gigantic bruise that now stretched across his midriff, added to a black eye.

‘Holy shit!’ Ambrosius exclaimed in horror. ‘Are the tutors allowed hit that hard? You barely bruised at all when you fell down those stairs last year, and now look! Who did that?’

‘Sir Educnatley. He was so weird about it, too. He pulled me aside and told me he’d hit me this hard because I’d need to be tougher than I already am. And I asked why, and he just shook his head and said that he didn’t like the direction I was going, but it wasn’t my problem, and then he left. I don’t know, is that an apology? What a bastard.’

‘Was everyone there?’

‘No, that was the weird thing, we were alone.’

‘That’s pretty messed up.’

A short silence.

‘One more day and we get two days off.’

‘Oh yeah!’

Coland entered, angry with life, but not, surprisingly, with Ambrosius.

‘She was fuckin’ delighted. Bitch.’ He murmured. “Her sister, on the other hand, was not so much. Do you mind if me and Nellie get together? On the rebound?’

‘I don’t think that’s how being on the rebound works.’ Ballister laughed. ‘Stop reading those romantic novels, Coland, they’re frying your brain.’

‘Can I?’

‘Whatever.’

And Ambrosius lay, awake, feeling a little disturbed. No matter what he thought of, he kept coming back to the small, infrequent, warm smiles and happy eyes and tanned skin and dark, messy hair of Ballister Blackheart, and then the seriousness that was, for some reason, infecting him now, the bags under his eyes growing bigger, the smiles tighter and shorter. The little voice that never seemed to give him a moment’s peace was whispering at him loudly that hey, Ballister’s gay. And this obviously of course wasn’t a bad thing, but Ambrosius hadn’t meant what he’d said earlier. He did care. It did change things, however minutely. Maybe it was good, or maybe not, but things were different now. He shouldn’t have been so flippant. And why had he said that thing about finding him attractive? That was just weird, why had he said it? Not that it wasn’t true, but...

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

Ambrosius fell asleep, and dreamt of quiet boys who smiled but didn’t speak, and of long, empty, dark tunnels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I should have the next chapter up sometime during the week. School has started, so that means three and a half hours of homework as well as other responsibilities :(


	3. The Third One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was waayyyyy longer than I thought it was, But there was no natural break. So bear with me. Interesting new revelations, found out by the wonderful Tehta, mean that my carefully laid headcanons are sadly no longer canon. Sigh, age differences. Not sure how well this chapter works, really, but homework calls. Enjoy!

The day before the weekend stretched out, feeling infinitely long.

‘Have you the tent ready?’ Ambrosius asked at breakfast, to which Ballister nodded and inquired after where they were going, given that the river had been deemed an unsuitable camping venue by the powers that be. When the boys at the institute turned eighteen, they were permitted to stay away from the campus for one night at a time, with strict rules and regulations. Breaking these meant losing all weekend privileges and ending up in a detention. The students were therefore very conscientious about following orders from the school board, and so if the river was out of bounds, it was out of bounds. There were girls in places other than there, anyway, they reasoned.

‘Why not the forest? I mean, It’s safe, isn’t it?’

‘I guess so. Except for bandits.’

‘We’re a year away from basic qualification, Ballister. They’ll see the institute logo on our stuff and know to stay away.’

‘Well. OK. Why not?’

After three hours walking to get to the stupid forest the next day, Ambrosius saw why not, but hey, it was an adventure. Adventures were fun, especially when they were with Ballister. Sometimes he thought so fondly of Ballister he had to remind himself he was not dead, and he was not eulogizing. He’d once had a nightmare where he did have to speak at Ballister’s funeral. He’d woken up in floods of tears, to two boys ignoring him completely, embarrassed for him, and one who was shaking him awake roughly. Ambrosius had thought this a little harsh, but after finding out that they’d been trying to wake him for five minutes to no avail, he forgave them. He’d never been so happy to see Ballister’s face the next day. The dream had been so realistic.

‘Penny for your thoughts,’ Ballister remarked. ‘You’re looking very serious.’

_And you’re looking much happier,_ Ambrosius thought, grinning cartoonishly widely.

‘Like you have any money.’

‘I spent it on food and a map.’

‘Well that means you don’t get to hear about all my pretty emotions then.’

‘How can emotions be pretty?’

‘You’re the scientist, you tell me!’

Eventually they reached the forest. It was completely empty.

‘Now what?’ Ballister asked, a little huffy. They ran on different timetables, and usually he ate an hour ago, whereas Ambrosius had plenty of leeway until he grew hungry.

‘Let’s explore. But also we could eat?’

‘So you want lunch?’

‘Yeah, wouldn’t be a bad idea. Did you swipe these from the kitchen?’

‘No, I said to Elzie where we were going and she said she felt bad for you cos you were so skinny but you weren’t allowed extra rations, so she gave us yesterday’s sandwiches.’

‘Oh wow, that was nice of her.’

‘She’s such a mother hen’

Ambrosius didn’t notice the way Ballister tore into his food, much as he hadn’t noticed the way his hiking companion had grown tetchier as the afternoon wore on. What he did notice was the way that his hands were very nicely proportioned, with long fingers, which really should have stayed delicate, but were instead calloused and rough. He found himself wanting to touch them, which was absurd in more ways than he could count.

Ballister, on the other hand, was happy and relaxed and also feeling something a little more powerful, that somehow seemed to begin in his stomach. Halfway through his lunch he stopped eating, unable to swallow all of a sudden.

‘ ‘Smatter?’

‘Nothing, just thought I’d save the rest in case I’m hungry later.’

So what to do for the next day? Tomorrow they’d probably go back to the city and loiter, but after hiking out all this way it seemed a pity to not do something. They wandered into the cover of trees, marvelling a little at the immediate privacy it offered. While it was not quite silent, the noises of the outside world seemed muffled and strange, and the light was filtered and murky. Moss grew in carpets on the ground, leaf mould decaying on top. It was cooler inside the woods than outside, prompting Ballister to pull on a jumper and Ambrosius to wish he had brought one. It was August, honestly- it felt more like October in here. Trust Ballister, to think of everything.

‘I’m freezing.’ He grumbled, as if it hadn’t been his idea in the first place to come here.

‘I knew you wouldn’t bring a jumper.’ Ballister smirked. ‘You never do.’

‘Wow, helpful. Do you learn all that in your maths classes? Oh my God, it’s so cold.’

A (rather unfortunately drab) pullover hit him in the face, thrown from the direction of his companion.

‘I brought a spare one for later, but I guess you can have it. For a lend, it’s one of my favorites.’

‘Thanks!’ Ambrosius said, wondering how one could have a favorite jumper if they were almost literally exactly the same as each other.

Later, Ballister decided to follow a small path that went deeper into the forest, and after an hour’s hike, realized where they were as they came to a clearing.

‘It’s the river,’ He laughed. ‘Ambrosius, look.’

‘It’s like God wants us to break the rules or something. Do you want to go swimming?’

‘We really shouldn’t.’

‘Oh, you’re no fun. Why not? I’m sweating like crazy here.’ Ambrosius pouted.

‘We don’t know the currents or the depth or what’s in here or anything,’ Ballister pointed out. ‘It’s dangerous. Anyway, you just said you were cold.’

‘If my middle name was not Harold, It’d be Danger. I’ll bet tons of people swim here all the time- look, it’s not even deep. Come on, you love swimming.’

‘I love swimming where I can be sure I’m not going to be swept away and found four days later all bloated and weird looking.’

‘Well, I’m going in,’ Ambrosius snapped, more to prove a point than anything, and heedless of the warnings and annoyed huffs from the taller and darker boy, did so.

‘IT’S SO COLD,’ was his first reaction, and then splashed around a bit to make some noise. If he were to use one word to describe Ballister then, it would have been ‘tense.’ In his heart he didn’t really feel 100% safe. If, God forbid, he were to hit his head or a current got him, it was so cold in this water that he might cramp up before being able to swim to safety, and Ballister was no idiot. No matter how desperate the situation got, he wouldn’t intervene, not after that incident when two boys drowned instead of one on that school outing when they were small. But he would spend as long as he could in here before it got too much, and would therefore win the argument on some level. He was often told that he was a sore loser, and he guessed it was true, but it was difficult to grow out of that phase, when you had 12 periods a day in which every teacher was telling you to win, and how to do so. And he didn’t lose very often, because he happened to practise for two hours longer than everyone else. He didn’t fight Ballister and Ballister never showed any sign of wanting to fight him, but they argued a lot, and there seemed to be a 50/50 spread of wins and losses.

Christ, this water was ice.

‘You’ve been in there for like ten minutes. You’ve proved your point. Come on out, Ambrosius, you win.’

‘Oh yeah? Wh-wh-what ifff I’m having f-fun?’ Ambrosius replied, effect marred by his teeth chattering.

‘Oh come off of it, Ambrosius, your lips are blue and you’re not impressing anyone.’

‘I’m impressing you!’ He tossed the golden hair he’d been careful not to get wet over his shoulders and rose up majestically from the river. Ballister pointedly rose an eyebrow and sighed, looking away as Ambrosius dressed himself. Elzie was not blind. Ambrosius may have been strong, but he sure was skinny. Ask Ballister this time two months ago that he would now be fighting the urge to stare openly at his friend’s (probably ungraceful) attempts to pull up his trousers, and he would have laughed, but times change, and was it just him or had he grown again? His shirt sleeves were just above where they had been last week, although knowing Ambrosius, that might just be a fashion thing. Flamboyant to the last.

‘Oh whatever,’ he sighed as he sat down next to Ballister, who would have liked nothing more than to lean his head in on his shoulder. ‘It wasn’t the same.’

‘The same as what?’

‘The same as when people are here. You’d probably have gotten more out of that than I did.’

‘I don’t know about that. You’re still freezing. Do you want a blanket?’

‘Do you have one?’

‘Well considering as we are camping, yes, I did bring bedding. Here, they’re in my bag.’

He tossed a blue woolen throw over to Ambrosius, who tucked it  around his shoulders gratefully.

They went back towards the road a bit, and by then it was quite late, so they started to set up camp (that’s not how you do it, how many times, you forgot the flysheet, oh yeah sorry, here’s the guy ropes?, oh we may as well) and by the time that was all done they were both ravenous. Dinner didn’t take long, as it was rations from a tin, and the foul taste of it was soon erased.

‘Blackberries!’ Ambrosius exclaimed, delighted at having found them, and that was a pretty good dessert, all things considered, although Ballister didn’t really eat much.

‘You must be hungry,’ Ambrosius pressed. ‘You didn’t eat all your lunch either.’

‘I don’t know,’ Ballister confessed. ‘I’m just not.’

They tidied up the food carefully, aware vaguely that there could hypothetically be bears in the area and that it may not be a good thing to leave it around anyway, seeing as rats were definitely in the area, every area, all the time. They couldn’t see the stars above them. It was very quiet, and even though there was no-one to disturb, they kept their voices low anyway, and for the first time in what seemed like an age, they just sat there and chatted.

‘I had no idea you were gay,’ Ambrosius confessed. ‘Honestly. You hide it well.’

‘Oh. I hadn’t really tried to hide. I guess it’s harder now someone else knows, but it’s you- I can trust you.’

‘Can you?’ Ambrosius asked quietly. ‘I hope you can. I hope I don’t-’

‘That’s not exactly filling me with confidence, Ambrosius. You have to keep a secret. Please, please, _please_ don’t tell anyone.’ Ballister said, suffering from sense of humour failure once again.

‘Of course I won’t! You could get murdered or something! And technically, you could be put in prison! Stupid law, but hey, you’re breaking it.’

‘It’s not like I had a choice in the matter. It’s not like I just woke up and decided to be gay. I wish I wasn’t. I wish I was normal. And then I could marry a lady and have kids, and just be your average, run of the mill guy, and not have to hide anything. This part of me is so- it’s so- not normal- but I _can’t_ change, I’ve _tried_ , and God, Ambrosius, God, if I could only be more like you-’

‘What are you saying? You’re you. This is as much a thing about you as how you like maths. Why are you so… ashamed about it?’

‘Because, it’s wrong, and if I ever want to get anywhere I’m going to have to lie. I don’t want to have to lie for the rest of my life.’

‘It isn’t wrong. I hate the way people make it out like it’s some sort of evil thing, it isn’t wrong at all.’

‘That’s easy for you to say, you know? You can go off now when we leave and fall in love publicly and have children. Do you know how much I’d like children? I’ve never told anyone this, but God I’d love them, so I could make up for whatever wrongs my dad did, but I can’t. And I can’t get married. I can’t even legally _have sex_.’

‘Well… I mean, I don’t know about the kids thing with me. But I don’t know that it’s necessarily easy for me, either. What if I never find them? I haven’t ever been in love, not really, and most of the guys have. Nellie was so utterly awful, like… I don’t know. Maybe I’m just not designed for it.’

‘Oh, look at yourself. If God could create a person who is destined for star-cross’d love, it’s you,’ Ballister said, and he felt pleasantly weird and vulnerable to say such personal things.

‘What? How?’

“OK, So...’ _be careful, Ballister_ , he thought. ‘You’re really intense. Like, I hope she’s ready for your intensity. And you’re very sweet about things, generally. Even though you’re not at all easygoing.’

‘I am so easygoing!’

‘No, you’re not! You’re such a control freak! And you’re determined and… oh I don’t know. You’re gorgeous too, which helps. I mean- not that I mean that in a- I don’t-’

But it was too late, and Ambrosius was blushing like a schoolgirl. _You bloody fool_ , Ballister thought. _He’s so cute when he blushes holy crap is it humanly possible to look that good._

A heavy and awkward and long silence fell on the campsite and Ballister wanted to run off and also to kiss Ambrosius, but mainly to leave and go far away and maybe live in the forest like a hermit, basic qualification be damned. He could have sheep and cut off his face so no one would ever recognize him. Maybe he would become a local attraction. Meet the most embarrassed man in the universe!

‘So, you’re going to have to give up maths next year,’ Ambrosius said, and then he was disappointed with himself for having changed the subject from a weird but important topic to a depressing and ultimately trivial one. God knows most people hated the side-projects they were meant to study (Really, though, why on Earth had he picked the _descant recorder_ as a side subject, when he could have learned almost _anything else in the world_ ) but Ballister loved maths really a lot. ‘Actually no, forget I changed the subject, let’s go back to where we were.’

‘Why? Was that not excruciating enough?’ And the little flick where Ballister’s hair exposed the nape of his neck was pretty but covered in darkness, whereas his face was lit up brightly by the small campfire, so although Ambrosius was pretty sure he knew why Ballister’s cheeks were so flushed, they could both pretend it was heat from the flames.

‘No. We need to talk about it.’

‘Why? So you can validate yourself as a good friend? I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘No, that’s not why, and I do want to talk. You said some really mean things about yourself back there. Also, harsh much? I happen to think I am a good friend anyway?’

‘You are, you are. Sorry.’ Ballister apologized. He did this easily, Ambrosius thought. It was never so easy for him to say sorry for things.

‘You’re not unnatural. You’re not wrong. Don’t believe the hype.’

‘What would you know?’ Ballister said, but so sadly that Ambrosius wanted to give him a bit of a hug instead of following this up, but you know, he kind of had to. He definitely had to.

‘Maybe more than you’d think.’

Ballister turned to look at him sharply, frightened and excited and uncertain.

‘Maybe a lot more.’

‘But-’

‘All those girls?’ Ambrosius gave a bitter smile. ‘I-’

‘You were literally just saying you were scared you wouldn’t meet _her_. Not _him_. No, that- I don’t want you to jeopardize your future just because I called you good looking, Ambrosius, that isn’t fair.’

‘You’re not being fair. Also, I never said anything about girls. I’m working things out using my voice, OK? And I’d like you to try to pay attention without interrupting. I know I’m being rude. But whatever.’

‘...OK.’

‘Alright. So. I thought I was straight, pretty much. And I have gone out with plenty of girls. I have terrible taste, in girls, by the way. But you’ve been distracting me- I mean, I’ve been distracted by boys for as long as I can remember. But I always explained that away. And I am pretty good at being delusional. I have managed to pretend to myself for a while now. Go me, I guess?’

‘Um, I don’t think that’s such a good thing.’

‘Shh. And then on Thursday you told me you liked boys. And I was like, OK. And since then, I have been feeling guilty for not telling you right there. And maybe I’ve lied to you? No, no, I _have_ been lying to you. But I don’t think I’m wrong or anything. I think I’m just myself. And you’re just yourself. And everyone in their heart of hearts already knows that I am as gay as Christmas, but no-one’ll say anything. Respond.’

If there was ever a time he’d be lost for words, Ballister thought, it would have to be now.

‘You’re like me, then.’

‘That’s my general point.’

‘I’m not alone in it, then.’

‘No. Not at all.’

The sheer relief of this statement nearly brought on a cold sweat.

‘Christ.’ Ballister said quietly. ‘This is a mess.’

‘Stop it. No it isn’t. We’re gay best friends. It’s a television show waiting to happen. Except for it would be insensitive and cruel. But still. Who you love isn’t anyone else’s business.’

‘Except theirs, maybe.’

‘Just a small bit.’

Ambrosius scooted around to position himself next to Ballister. They hadn’t prepared for such honesty while sitting down. It was nice to look at his friend’s sallow skin all bathed orange by the fire.

‘You’re very optimistic,’ Ballister said, looking anywhere but Ambrosius’ eyes. ‘Even about the past, you always remember it better than I do. I just wish I could bring myself to be that brave.’

‘You’re braver than I am,’ Ambrosius said, wanting badly to touch him, feeling unable to.

Ballister looked up then, and at him.

‘50/50,’ he said, not smiling, but then, he rarely did.

Silence fell again, and Ballister reached out and laid his hand on Ambrosius’. They didn’t speak a word. Ballister suddenly felt like a dam had burst somewhere. He was brave. They were so close, sitting tightly together.

Years and years later, after everything, Ballister would remember that night and think about what didn’t and did happen, and how young they had been, and how mature Ambrosius had been about everything even though he was exactly the opposite about most else, and he wouldn’t have changed a thing, not one thing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was the penultimate chapter. I'd love some constructive criticism or whatever. thanks so much for reading, everyone :)


	4. Ballister goes Fourth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, the final chapter (bar an epilogue.) It's been very educational! Sorry for not updating, but I do have to prioritize homework (all three and a half hours not including study) over fanfiction. :( I've barely been able to check Nimona updates! (Which have not helped my stress, BTW) Here goes, hope you enjoy!

Next morning. Ballister woke up first, noticing with despair that he had still not stopped his drooling habit. It really wasn’t pleasant. During the night they had been so cold they couldn’t bring themselves to change clothes, and it hadn’t warmed up, so he dragged his blanket off the bed and climbed as silently as he could out into the forest. Was there water nearby? He couldn’t hear any flowing, and since he did not need to contract E. Coli anytime soon, he started off back towards the river, leaving the blanket and his pack at camp. He hoped Ambrosius wouldn’t think he’d done a bunk. Running away was not an unpleasant proposition, he thought now, although he could probably do without the stress of evading capture by the institute. He’d heard they’d cut off deserting students’ ears, but it seemed a little far fetched now that he thought about it.

And he was thinking of other things too, namely the things which Ambrosius had said last night and would probably take back at breakfast. He didn’t blame him. They had sounded sincere, but were they? Perhaps the stress of nine hour training sessions was getting too much. Maybe he had gotten sick after that stupid dip in the stupid river. It had been infuriating watching him yesterday, resolute and probably five minutes away from hypothermia.

Anyway, everything was confusing, and nothing seemed right. He hated being so young and unable to do anything about anything. And when he was older, he thought, if he graduated (he most definitely would, of course, at this stage. Everyone was going to graduate) then what? More following orders, until he was forty and could retire from combat and go into tactics or something. This occurred to him sometimes. He ignored it. He had enough to worry about. Anyway, there never seemed to be much to do, especially as the only true villain in the kingdom was like seventy-five. Do they replace villains like they do champions? Ballister wondered. He hoped not, but it could make a hypothetical amount of sense. The current champion and villain were getting to the stage where they were brandishing walking sticks at each other half-heartedly. They had never had much chemistry to begin with, though, unlike the nemeses that the retired knights used to talk about before they got a new retirement home and moved away from the early education center. But anyway, he’d lost his train of thought. Ambrosius and his confession-stroke-epiphany dominated everything then, from when Ballister reached the river and filled their containers, until he arrived back to quiet snoring. Never in a million years would Ambrosius admit he snored, despite all evidence to the contrary.

Time to make the coffee, then. How long should he wait until it was time to wake him up? What time was it, even?

What was that? A rustling in the forest from behind him inspired in him paranoia, and though it was most probably nothing, curiosity made him go see what it was. He ducked under some brambles, straining to see, but his caution had led him astray again. There was nothing there. When he arrived back Ambrosius was awake and, uncharacteristically, not lazily lying off.. Leaning against a tree, his facial expression was one of disgust, examining the jumper he had slept in as if it had personally insulted him or something.

‘Good morning,’ he muttered, and then shook his hair out of his eyes.

The phrase ‘cut the tension with a knife’ had, up until then, been used to describe important jousts, or more usually grudge matches between visiting knight errants and the chosen Institute heroes. It was Ballister’s scientific opinion that it now applied here. They each had a vague idea of what the other was thinking- although they weren’t prepared to take risks unnecessarily, based on nothing but a hunch.

‘Is that coffee?’ Ambrosius asked hopefully, instead of being grown-up about it all and saying what he felt.

‘What else could a coffee pot on a fire possibly be?’

‘Tea, if you’re brewing it incorrectly.’

‘Well, by that logic, it could be cauliflower being stewed incorrectly.’

‘Ew,’ Ambrosius said, disgusted. Cauliflower was his least favourite thing. Ballister could still remember that time they’d completed the worst endurance test they’d ever faced (so not Ambrosius’ style), running through bogs and all sorts, and all there was to eat was cauliflower cheese, not even salad or anything, and Ambrosius’ face had been all grey and disappointed.

They drank the coffee in semi-awkward silence.

‘Last night.’ Ballister said finally.

‘Yes.’

‘You did mean what you said.’

‘Holy mother of the divine, I wasn’t sure if that had actually happened.’

‘There’s always time to take it back.’

‘That is such a lie. You should be ashamed. What a thing to say!’

‘Did you mean it or didn’t you?’ Ballister asked wearily.

‘I meant it.’ Ambrosius confirmed.

‘Right.’

‘You had to make sure? Your trust is flattering.’

‘You always do that, though. Make mistakes impulsively. I mean, your name. And your awful instrument.’

‘Well, that’s different.’ Ambrosius said defensively, crossing his arms.

‘How?’

‘It just is. Bleuh bleuh bleuh, I’m Ballister and I remember things.’

‘I don’t sound like that,’ Ballister said, not quite smiling but finding it hard to not turn up his mouth.

‘Science is fun! I like drawing graphs and numbers are letters now.’

‘Wow, maths in one sentence, well done.’

‘One time a guy told a joke about… numbers? And I laughed for a whole day.’

‘Nice to know you think so highly of my sense of humour.’ Ballister sighed, not unhappily. This was better. Ambrosius was smiling brightly. The awkwardness between them was, if not dissipated, not nearly as strong as it had been.

‘You’re like literally my favorite person. Totally.’ Ambrosius confessed lightly.

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah.’

‘Ah, no, seriously. Pinky promise.’ Ambrosius grinned, sauntering over to seal the deal.

‘You just don’t seem so sincere while asking me to pinky promise.’

‘You know I take these things very seriously.’

‘Yes, and I think you have a problem because we’re not eight year old girls. ’

‘No such thing as a having a pinky promise problem.’

‘Unless it’s like, I pinky promise to murder these schoolchildren.’

‘You always jump straight to murdering. I’ll bet you’re planning to kill me and hide my body in the woods.’

‘Damn, foiled again.’ Ballister joked, clicking his fingers in mock frustration.

‘Admit it. I would make a pretty corpse.’ Ambrosius said, tying up his hair nonchalantly.

At that, Ballister did laugh. A very typically Ambrosius thing to say.

‘Define pretty, and not if you had a gaping face wound or something.’

‘Well, obviously not.’ Ambrosius scoffed. ‘No, there’d be like roses in my coffin. And my hair would totally be amazing. And obviously nothing less that the finest armour. I shall be super hot forever.’

‘You’re so weird.’

‘Like you don’t think about your funeral. Everyone does. You’d have like, graph paper and flasks and stuff. Science until the world ends.’

‘I’m not actually as crazy about science as all that.’

‘Yesterday you talked about ice for literally half an hour.’

‘Well, don’t blame me if-’

‘Oh please no!’ Ambrosius moaned in pain. ‘Oh please, I cannot talk about ice anymore.’

Their super-mature and grown up conversation continued as they packed up all their stuff and put out their fire. They reached the edge of the forest, walking down the main road, making good time, and ignoring the storm clouds that gathered overhead that implied heavily that there would be plenty of rain that afternoon. Hopefully it would blow over with no precipitation.

No such luck.

The rain! It poured down, and they desperately searched for shelter, eventually coming to a small group of trees.They weren’t much use, really, but it was the principal of the thing.

‘Ugh’ Ambrosius shuddered. ‘Water down my neck.’

Close to each other, crouching a little, they stood for thirty minutes by Ballister’s reckoning before anything further happened.

Lightning flashed blindingly across the sky.

‘Oh, fantastic,’ Ballister muttered as they waited for the thunder.

‘One elephant, two elephant, three elephant, four elephant,’ Ambrosius counted.

Eventually that got on even his nerves, so he stopped. Ballister had never liked thunder and lightning. As a child, it was the only thing that had seemed to scare him. When particularly bad storms happened, the rule of one-boy-per-bed-IN-YOUR-OWN-DORM was unenforced. Staff had enough trouble making sure the electricity kept on working. Ambrosius used to pad softly into his ‘other’ dorm, to distract Ballister from the storm by way of meaningless prattle and annoying questions. He hadn’t asked for help, even back then, but Ambrosius was pretty sure he appreciated it.

Well, they were both taller now, and supposedly wiser. Ballister was standing fairly rigidly for someone who claimed to half put such childish fears aside. He was soaked through. That was why he was tense. Not the thunder. Totally not. _Amazing how there weren’t any houses around here. Could the land really be so infertile that there were no crops or animals? Although, maybe this was the middle of a really big farm, so the house was further away._

This internal monologue on soil composition aside, Ballister remained undistracted from the weather.The storm was nearly overhead now, and this was not a fun thing to do. Give him anything else to face, murderers or angry farmers, or Hell, even his father. Just not a storm in the middle of the open… He felt like throwing up. It was so horribly horribly loud. He told himself that this was all so irrational, that it was only sheet lightning and therefore only a problem to other clouds, and not to him or to Ambrosius.

Well, that line of reasoning was never going to hold water. The whole point of phobias was that they were irrational. The next rumble, right overhead, louder than anything he had ever heard, was enough to make him grab out for whatever he could find. This happened to be Ambrosius’ arm. Ambrosius, dear, sweet, forgetful Ambrosius, had been looking up at the sky, impressed with the lightshow, completely oblivious to the panic and colour of his friend. The sudden pressure on his elbow reminded him, and he glanced over with concern. Ballister could go so pale for someone with naturally sallow skin.

‘ARE YOU OK?’ He shouted to be heard over the rain and wind.

‘NOT REALLY.’

‘WHAT?’

‘NO!’

‘NOT TOO MUCH LONGER.’

Another boom, this time so cacophonous that it felt like it vibrated their very eardrums, and then it was Ambrosius who grabbed Ballister’s hand- his right hand, as it happened to be, and Ballister didn’t even realize this until five minutes later when the storm was nearly gone. He turned his head, mouth open, staring at his hand, at Ambrosius’s in it, at Ambrosius’ pink tinged face, (it turned out water dripping from his nose was the one look he could not pull off), and felt the nauseous feeling disappear. He closed his mouth because he couldn’t work out what to say, but the little smile he gave may as well have been a three-page monologue. Ambrosius seemed both nervous and defiant as he broke contact.

It took four hours marching home without a break to reach the institute, soaking wet, with everything chafing off everywhere and muck up to their eyes, laughing at people’s expressions and the abject misery of their situation. That would catch up with them the next day, of course, but nothing could beat hot baths and hot food and disapproving glances with your (maybe more than) best friend.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Be sure to leave a comment (or not, if you don't want to) if you liked! Thanks to Tehta for commenting!


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This actually clears nothing up :/  
> :/  
> However, it does mark a personal goal: my first multi-chapter fic finished! I never thought I'd do this in real life! Thanks everyone for your comments! It's been real :)  
> (a note on the timing here- it's before the fight scene in the tavern. So all is domestic harmony)

He looked up from the periodical he’d been enjoying as a sudden burst of thunder shook the walls. Distantly, he heard Nimona shriek in excitement, as rain began to rattle the windowpanes. He should have known this would be her favorite type of weather. The sky outside was dark, so he was just lighting his lantern, as she came running in.

‘This is so cool,’ she half-yelled. ‘A thunderstorm! Let’s go outside! We can be struck by lightning! We can become lightning monsters!’

‘Nimona, no.’ Ballister said, horrified. ‘That is not a good goal for today. Why don’t you do something more… constructive?’

‘Well, you said _no more zombies,_ ’ she replied. ‘So what am I supposed to do, just watch? Ugh, you’re so _old_ and _boring_.’

‘I’m not old.’ He said, on autopilot, before sighing and waving her out. ‘Whatever you want. Be careful. Lightning hurts, I don’t care how fast you can heal yourself.’

He watched her play, seeming both older and younger than she looked. When he was her age… Oh, stop it. He was old, then, if he was thinking thoughts like that. Thunder rolled again, but that really wasn't an issue. Not anymore.

When he was her age, and none of the awfulness had yet come to pass, when he hadn’t yet bowed to the inevitable… And Ambrosius had still had some integrity, some sense of self-worth that wasn’t all based on what others told him- him losing that hadn’t been much fun to watch, and he supposed the way he himself had started to reject everything, maybe more than was good for him, maybe more than he should have, couldn’t have been easy for Ambrosius either- but Nimona, out there, seeming altogether just as innocent as they had been, in a thunderstorm not unlike this one- it brought him right back. And he hated nostalgia like this, it was pointless and anyway, he hated the noble Sir Goldenloin and everything he stood for. Right?

She wasn’t, of course, innocent. She was very much the opposite. It took him aback, sometimes. Her lack of- well, of knowledge, really. Consequences just weren’t part of her picture, and while that was maybe attributable to her youth, there was something more to it too. A little sinister.

But he stood at the window, wondering if Ambrosius was experiencing the same storm and hating himself for wondering, and thinking that it was true what people said, the years didn’t go slowly, and God… Oh, God. Where had the time gone? That camping trip had been half his life ago, more, and what had happened since? He sighed, and regret filled him up, and he tried not to think about it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. Of this one, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and do check back soon for chapter two! :)


End file.
